


Tromperie

by calafuego



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death?, F/M, possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6424786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calafuego/pseuds/calafuego
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An injury should be just that.  Something horrible that you then recover from.  It shouldn't be the thing that starts to unravel everything you ever knew about life, love, and family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tromperie

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I wrote to just get it out of my mind, but as I was writing it I found myself intrigued by a few different ideas. As such, this will be the start to what will hopefully be a long, interesting journey.

Some things just didn’t go as planned.

 

You could spend days, weeks,  _ months _ planning them.  You could agonize over every little detail.  You could have things timed to the minute, the  _ second,  _ but they could still go wrong.  All it took was one little thing, one little push this way or that and everything came crashing down.

 

It happened in a second.  In a single step.  It happened with the rain pouring down on top of them, with the thunder cracking in the distance, with the lightning flashing through the sky, illuminating the akuma they’d been fighting since the sun went down.  Ladybug had everything planned, she’d seen every piece of her plan, had everything worked out down to the  _ step _ .  And she’d told Chat what to do, watching as he used his staff to get to the rooftops.

 

All according to plan.  All perfect.  As she knew it would be.  She and Chat had been working together for years, had become so in sync they barely needed to speak in battle.  When she saw a blow coming she couldn’t block, she never worried.  When he found himself unable to catch a ledge, he didn’t blink.  She knew she would see the silver glint of a staff blocking danger.  He knew she would swing in and snatch him out of the air.

 

They breathed as one, they moved as one.  Red and black, creation and destruction, luck and superstition.  Hand in hand, pushing and pulling, flowing like water through and around each other.

 

So she knew he would follow her plan perfectly, despite only having been given a few words of instruction.  She knew when he would jump, when he would pause, when he would flash a grin and purr out those puns he was so proud of.

 

But tonight, something changed.  Tonight, in the downpour, in the middle of a moonless night, it seemed Chat Noir’s bad luck outweighed her own good luck.

 

She saw it in slow motion.  Caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye, turned her head just slightly to glance at the rooftop.  She could see him outlined against the sky, lightning seeming to crack the black behind him.  She saw the slide of his boot, saw his jaw tense and his body twist as he slid down the tiles.  He would catch himself, she knew that much.  He would catch the gutter and swing down to the flagpole beneath.

 

She wasn’t worried about the three story drop beneath him.  She was worried about the rose thorned spear now sailing his direction.

 

Hissing in a breath, Ladybug jerked herself to a stop.  She turned and raised her yo-yo, throwing it forward and hoping,  _ praying _ that she had been fast enough.

 

\------

 

Sometimes, Chat Noir hated everything that he was.   _ Sometimes _ , he cursed the mask, cursed his second identity, cursed the little black kwami possessing his ring, his entire body.  And more often than not, he cursed the luck that came with it.

 

Here they were, at the end of an exhausting battle, about to charge the Akuma and get those damned gardening gloves off of her, and  _ now _ his bad luck decided to show its face?

 

It was simple enough to catch himself, to slide down the slippery tiles, his claws scraping against the surface and heels digging in, his descent slowing to a stop far before the edge.  It wasn’t the worst he’d ever done, was fairly  _ tame _ compared to some of the situations his powers got him into (hanging from an overextended staff from the side of the Eiffel Tower with his ring down to one paw pad came to mind rather easily).  But what made  _ this _ one even worse was the fact that it was noisy.  The initial slip hadn’t been bad, but every hit and slide against the tiles seemed to resonate in the otherwise still night air.  He’d grit his teeth through every bump, every hard crack of tile against tile.

 

It was just a few seconds, just a minor slip.  He was already getting to his feet, already about to jump back in, to sprint a bit faster in order to get back in step with his Lady.  But then he heard it.  He heard the zip of her yo-yo cutting through the air.  He  _ saw _ it.  The dark green of an oversized rose branch coming hurtling towards him.

 

“ _ Cat _ \--” he tried, tried to back away, to raise his hand and gather energy in it, but he wasn’t fast enough.

 

Ladybug wasn’t fast enough, either.

 

He saw more than felt the makeshift spear impale him.  Heard the thump of it and his own body on the roof.  It was-- it was as if the impact had forced him out of his body.  Had created a sort of half reality.  One where he was simply watching someone who looked and sounded like himself grip onto the branch shoved through his chest in pure shock.

 

There wasn’t pain, not yet.  There was just… warmth.  Strange warmth that burned in his chest and bubbled up his throat, staining his lips and filling his mouth to the point where he had to cough.

 

And  _ that’s _ when the pain hit him.

 

He was vaguely aware of Ladybug’s yell, of the sudden, frantic babbling of the Akumatized botanist.  But for the moment, every inch of his brain was focused on one thing and one thing only: searing, burning pain.

 

His hands gripped the branch-like spear, ignoring how the thorns cut through the leather of his suit and into his palms.  He had to-- had to get it out-- or was it the other way around?  Had to leave it in.  Either way, he just.  He needed to grab it, to hold onto it as his vision started to fade around the edges, as it suddenly felt like he was entering a tunnel.  Like every sound had gone a little muffled, how his vision was slowly narrowing to a single point.  To the dreary sky, the sting of raindrops in his eyes if he looked up too far.  To the lights sparkling on some of the higher buildings, of red and black and--

 

Ah.  His lady was talking to him.

 

“--  _ at Noir _ !”

 

Her face was blurred, her voice sounding like it was coming from a thousand miles away and right next to him all at once.  But he could hear the worry in her voice, could see the way her face was scrunched up in worry and fear.

 

He hated seeing her like that.  She should--

 

“Smile.”

 

\--more.  He had always loved her smile.  And not the look that was twisting at her features now.  The way she was leaning over him more, her hands somewhere on his chest, pressing down and-- ow.   _ Ow _ that wasn’t-- she shouldn’t press  _ there _ \--

 

“ _ Ow _ !” he cried out, his hands jerking down to grab at her wrists as the world came into sudden, sharp clarity around him.  He could feel the rain against his skin again, could feel the way his chest felt like it was being torn apart from the inside out.

 

Could feel the warmth of blood on his torso, his lips, dripping down his chin and soaking into the suit around his neck.  Could taste copper, feel it bubbling up his throat as he tried to take a breath only to feel like he was  _ drowning _ .

 

“ _ Chat _ ,” Ladybug sounded frantic, her small hands pulling at his suit, stretching it and his magic enough that she was able to bunch it around the spear.  “You have-- you have to stay with me.  You have to--  _ Chat _ .”

 

He tried,  _ tried _ to answer her.  To respond to the frantic babbling of the girl above him, but the only things he could manage now were to choke and gurgle, every breath coming in and out like it was being forced through a jug of something thick.  Something warm that just kept coming and coming.

 

What he could manage to do, however, was reach up, was cup her cheek in his hand and watch as those wide, blue eyes met his.  He ran his thumb over her cheek, ignoring the way his stomach churned at the red streak he had inadvertently painted across her face.

 

“Lady--”  _ bug _ , he tried to say, but choked halfway through.  Coughed and gagged and tried to curl up on himself, to get off the roof he was pinned to because being on his back was crushing him, was making that drowning feeling worse and worse-- but he couldn’t move.  Every inch of his body felt like it was turning to lead.  “I- I--I…”

 

Ladybug shook her head, one hand leaving his chest to reach up to her cheek, to keep his up and pressed against her face.  He hated that his eyes were starting to close, his eyelids feeling like steel.  He just-- he wanted to see her, to keep watching his friend, his partner, his love.

 

“You stupid  _ cat _ ,” she whispered, or perhaps she yelled?  He wasn’t sure.  Everything, even the sirens, was drifting away, leaving him in the dark with a burning in his chest and a cruel voice whispering at the back of his mind.

 

_ You blew it, Adrien.  You blew it. _

 

\------

 

Marinette had never seen people move as fast as they did in the last ten minutes.  Just seconds after Chat Noir had lost consciousness her Miraculous had beeped their last, Tikki surging out of her earrings to hover over Chat Noir’s face, calling the other hero's name as she frantically tapped at his cheeks, his forehead.  A few times, Marinette had seen her go so far as to tug at his hair and the leather ears fastened to the top of his head.

 

Her hands were shaking as she pressed them to Chat Noir’s chest again, tears she hadn’t been letting herself shed as Ladybug blurring her vision and falling onto the blood soaked boy beneath her.

 

By the time the paramedics she’d called had made their way to the roof, Marinette was sobbing, her hands shaking where they seemed to be glued to his suit.  Someone pried her away, and she fell back, gasping and rubbing at her eyes, only to choke at the feeling of smearing something wet and warm across her face, instead.

 

Blood.  Chat Noir’s  _ blood _ .

 

They’d been hurt before.  She’d broken her arm just a year before, and Chat Noir had definitely come out of some battles with a bit more than their usual bumps and bruises, but nothing like this.  Sure, it had been a possibility.  Tikki had once told her all the dangers of being Ladybug, curled up by her side and trembling slightly in fear and sadness.  Fear that Marinette would rethink their partnership, and sadness for the countless people Marinette is sure she’d lost.

 

“--iss.   _ Miss _ ,” someone was calling her name, was touching her shoulder and crouching in front of her.  Marinette looked up, startled and wondering just when someone had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.  “Can you tell us what happened?”

 

“I--” Marinette glanced around, just now noticing that Chat Noir was gone.  Only blood soaked tiles and a cut portion of the branch that had pierced him remained.  “I don’t-- I didn’t see much.”  Her voice was trembling just as much as her hands, and all at once Marinette felt  _ sick _ .  Sick with worry, sick with fear, and sick at the way her fingers slid against each other as she clutched at the edges of the blanket.  “Ladybug and-- and Chat Noir were fighting… they were fighting someone,” her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears, and she felt a slight warmth against her side.  Tikki had wiggled up under her jacket, trying to comfort Marinette in any way she could.

 

The girl swallowed, forced herself to forget what had just happened for a moment, just a  _ moment _ , in order to piece together a story she hoped would help as much as possible.  “I-- I wasn’t watching for long, but I think they were fighting some… a gardener.  She had plants, and I heard… I think I heard Chat say some of them might be poisonous,” her stomach roiled at the thought.  Oh  _ please _ let the once that hit him be nothing more than an ordinary branch.  “But he-- I didn’t see it, but I heard Ladybug scream.  She… she had to go after the Akuma, but she saw me on the street and--” her voice cracked, her throat closed up, but Marinette forced herself to keep talking through the sobs trying to force their way out.  “She asked me to help him.  She said you were coming, she called, and he--  _ Chat _ \--”

 

A horrible sob tore out of her throat, and Marinette had to clamp a hand to her mouth.  She leaned forward, eyes screwed shut as those sobs kept coming.  Those horrible, painful sobs that seemed to rip through her entire body.  She could barely breathe, couldn’t  _ think _ past the flicker of images, an insistent replay of the last few minutes.

 

She felt she could even  _ taste _ Chat Noir’s blood, and realized she probably was.  Her hands were covered in it.

 

Someone was talking, and Marinette felt herself being moved.  She let herself be pulled to her feet and led to the fire escape.  Before she knew it she was seated in the back of a car, the police in the front speaking quietly, probably so as to not disturb her more than necessary.  She must have already been checked over by a medic, because before she knew it she was being led out of the car and into her parent’s welcoming arms.

 

The sirens faded into the distance, the red and blue lights becoming nothing more than a memory.  Her mother helped her out of her clothes, her father drawing a bath, and they both did their best to clean her up as much as possible.  She wanted to thank them, had mumbled as much a few times, but they just shook their heads and pressed gentle kisses to her forehead.

 

Before she knew it, Marinette was in bed, curled on her side and clutching a pillow to her chest.  Tikki, finally able to come out of her hiding place under Marinette’s desk, drifted slowly towards her charge.  She settled before her on the bed, reaching out and stroking her hand gently down Marinette’s pale, tear stained cheeks.

 

“He’s strong,” she whispered, quiet as she could be, but Marinette still flinched horribly at the sound.  “Oh, Marinette… you know how strong he can be.  He’ll be all right.  He has a kwami of his own looking out for him.”

 

Instead of responding, Marinette just clutched the pillow tighter, letting her tears soak the sheets until she finally,  _ finally _ fell asleep.


End file.
